The Fallen
by FortRider
Summary: Atlantis has fallen, and only Dr Weir has survived.  Another one shot, a sad fic.  I'm not sure what to make of this at the moment, so all feedback would be welcomed.  Warning: Character Death


The Fallen

Disclaimer: The characters, locations and aired plots belong to the creators of Stargate Atlantis. This plot is my own, but no profit is made from it. Thanks to the Stargate Atlantis production team for allowing us to play in their world.

Notes: I'm not quite sute what to make of this, so please let me know what you think. As ever, at the moment, this is un-betaed, so all mistakes are my own, but hopefully I've caught them all.

Dr Weir looked out over the burning ruins of the city. She wasn't crying, she wouldn't let herself. She knew that if she let the tears fall, they wouldn't stop, and she needed clear vision to do what she needed to do.

Turning her back on the external destruction, and faced the remains of the Gate Room instead. All around, signs of battle scarred the once grand room. The soldiers who'd forced their way through the gate were strewn across the floor, but so were her own people. She could see John, right on what had been the front line. His dark messy hair was a stark contrast to his bloodless face. A rusty smear marred his charming looks, running from his chest. Not far behind, Ronon and Teyla lay where they had landed, the last of the defenders to fall as they themselves defeated the enemy.

She stepped through now inactive gate, past those closest friends, towards the cities main controls. Gently, as she passed each in turn, she reached down to close their eyes. Moving carefully around the remains of the remains of those who'd died, she reached the stairs.

At the top lay Rodney, his data pad still in his hand. He looked as if he had just fallen asleep while working, a common enough occurrence. In a way he had. He had been trying to activate the shield, braving enemy fire right until it was too late, both for the city and for him. In the end, the gate had shut down, but not in time to make a real difference.

All the Lantean controls were wrecked, one man lay sprawled on top of the ruined DHD. The glow that had welcomed them when they had first arrived had been extinguished. The only shine was from reflections on the dead crystals. There, in the corner. A slight glow, the lowered screen of a laptop. Not enough to light it's surroundings, but enough to catch her eye. It lay by the DHD, under the technician's limp arm.

Carefully lifting his hand, blinking away the tears that threatened to return. Sniffing a little, she opened the laptop. Twenty minutes were left in the battery. The interface with the Lantean technology was only just active, but like the battery, it would suffice. Signing in to the system, she went to start a specific sequence.

Before she got that far, a flashing icon in the corner of the screen caught her eye. A message, sent through the Lantean network, was waiting for her. The symbol identified who it was from. Rodney McKay. She had to turn away, away from the carnage, the death. Her friend's face, grinning out of the screen. After what she'd seen, it was nearly too much. She sank to the floor, taking deep breaths, desperately trying to maintain her composure for a few more minutes.

The low battery warning on the laptop brought her back to the present, an incessant beeping which pounded on her skull. She had ten minutes. Taking one more deep breath, she returned to the computer. Despite the limited time, she couldn't ignore the message. The window opened to display a short note, presumably written at the height of the action:

'I think you will need this, I doubt I will be able to give it to you myself. Don't get them take Atlantis.

Look after yourself, Elizabeth.

Good bye.'

After the message there was a long line of what looked like gibberish. It took her a moment to recognise it as a code. Rodney's command code. Despite everything, he had been prepared, even for this. She smiled, a little, despite herself. He might be insufferably arrogant, but he did know what he was doing... had been... had known what he was doing. Elizabeth felt a lump forming in her throat.

Bringing up the program she had originally been heading for, she put in her command code into its box, then carefully copied out Rodney's. The computer confirmed the command, and a warning alarm began to sound. The failing PA distorted the harsh sound into an eerie wail, almost as if the city itself was mourning the lost.

Thirty minutes.

Now completely calm, accepting of her fate, she closed the laptop down and made her way down the steps, settling herself in the middle. All around her, the bodies of those she had spent the last three years of her life with. Three years work, all to dust. Millennia of history, up in smoke. They had backups of a large portion of the database waiting in a Puddle Jumper, but they were no use now.

"...Don't let them get Atlantis... Look after yourself..."

Rodney's last message ran around her head. There was so much of his work and that of the others was in the database, all lost now. She had planned to go with the city, with her friends, if planned was the right word. Leaving felt like abandoning.

"...Look after yourself..."

"You should go..." John's voice echoed in her mind.

"My place is here." She knew she was talking to the dead. "My place is with you."

"You can't stay here. Atlantis is a dead city now, let the dead look after it." This time it was Rodney's voice, and she could have sworn she could see him, standing by the gate.

"_You_ are not Rodney. _Rodney_ is over here. You are a figment of my imagination. Rodney has gone, he is no more."

"Really? You honestly believe that?" Rodney, _no_, the image of Rodney, took a step towards her. The real Rodney was pale, cold, still on the ground beside her. "Besides, if I am only in your imagination, perhaps it has the right idea. I mean, when it happened to me, mine did."

"Believe me, you don't want to follow where we're going. Not until you have to." This was John again and sure enough there he was, standing next to Rodney. _NO!_ John was lying by the gate. "Go on, you still have plenty of time to leave."

"I _will not_ listen to my imagination. I will not abandon my people."

"There's no reason for you to stay, lass. Even I couldn't change what's happened to everyone, or bring anyone back. Why should you sacrifice yourself for nothing?" Beckett had joined them now.

"Let us go, and move on. We will meet again, when the time is right." Teyla stood next to her body.

"You can't hang on to us forever, we need to rest. If you don't move on, we cannot. You have mourned us for long enough, do not torment yourself for us." This came from Peter Grodin. "It's been two years, and you still haven't forgiven yourself for the accident. You did what you could. Take comfort in that, and let me go."

"You... you are all in my head. You are not talking to me. I am imagining you all." Elizabeth's voice grew shrill as she became more distressed. "Just leave me alone!"

"If we're in your imagination, why are we _all_ here." Cadman stepped up next to the growing group. Confusion danced over Elizabeth's face. "Look behind you." The Lieutenant added softly.

Elizabeth turned cautiously, afraid of what she'd see. All around, on all the walkways and balconies around the room, the expedition members had gathered.

"We died with honour, all of us, facing our enemies. To protect Atlantis. To protect you, our leader. Don't let our actions be in vain." Ronon stood with the rest of the city's principle team.

"Elizabeth, please go. Go and tell the story of the last fight of Atlantis, her defenders..." Started Rodney, an unexpected sentiment from the prickly physicist. John interrupted before he could complete the sentence.

"... And her scientists..."

"...Yes, them too. Go, don't let us be forgotten. But please, let us have peace."

"You... you are like my family. I can't... I can't leave you here."

John squatted down next to her. "You can. You must. Like Teyla said, we'll meet again." John's voice lowered, so only she could hear.

"But..."

"Go..." A whisper. A plea she could not refuse.

Abruptly, before she was overwhelmed, she stood up and headed for the Jumper Bay.

The route was lined with the ghosts, yes, they must be ghosts, of the expedition. As she walked past each person, she heard their voices. A quiet 'farewell', a whispered 'goodbye', each a gently knife that stabbed at her heart, but at the same time a weight that lifted from her mind, as the member gratefully faded into the last great unknown.

Somehow, Peter met her outside the Jumper Bay. He gave her a smile as she went to go inside. "Au revoir, Elizabeth. Until we meet again." Dr Weir watched as he vanished, finally free, and tried not to sob. With great regret, she continued into the Jumper Bay.

Outside her target Jumper, Teyla, Ronan and Rodney were waiting. Teyla stepped up first, pressing her insubstantial forehead against Elizabeth's. "Live happy, Doctor. You have let us leave. You could give no greater gift." She smiled, despite the tears streaking Elizabeth's face, and then stepped back.

"We'll meet again, though not too soon, I hope." Said Rodney.

"We'll be waiting, on the other side." Ronon said, the gruff warrior leaving it there.

"Don't hurry, we've got all the time in the universe."

"Good bye, Elizabeth."

"Good bye."

"Farewell."

The trio faded away, leaving the bay empty. Elizabeth stepped through where they had been and entered the craft. Sitting down in the pilot's seat, she was unsurprised to see John sat next to her. Quietly, she asked, "Are they all gone?"

John nodded. "Yes. I'm the last." He paused, listening to the mournful cry echoing around the city, hearing it change as the end approached. "You don't have much time, but before you go, look under your seat."

Elizabeth reached under and lifted out a box. With John's encouraging nod, she lifted the lid, and gasped as the contents registered. Inside, a single crystal, mounted on a silver chain. No, it wasn't silver, it was one of the Lantean metals, strangely iridescent in the dim light. "But, where..."

"The crystal is one of the empty data crystals from the Ancient stores, the chain from one of the ingots from the same store. We had it made during my last leave."

"We?"

"My team and I. We knew it was only a matter of time before something like this happened."

"It's beautiful."

"Use it to remember us, and Atlantis. Now, lift this thing, before its too late."

The sentiment behind the necklace nearly made her stay. "I... I don't..."

"Shh..." He interrupted. "Just go. Be safe. Consider it my last request."

Elizabeth gave him a tortured look, but he knew she wouldn't deny him. Slowly, she lifted the Jumper from its platform, and descended to the gate room. She entered address for the McKay... McKay-Carter Intergalactic Gate Bridge. Even her thoughts stumbled as she considered the monument to the physicist's life. She nudged the Jumper forwards, approaching the event horizon.

At her side, she heard John utter a single word before finally disappearing. "Aveo." 'Goodbye'.

The stargate was no secret now, Atlantis was a myth no longer. The Ori had been defeated, the Wraith relegated to a minor concern in a galaxy innumerable light-years away. The galaxy was peaceful for a moment, under the watchful eyes of the United Human Fleet.

In Cheyenne Mountain, centred around the location the gate had sat in for two decades, stood two monuments, cast in iridescent Lantean metal. One, engraved with Earth's gate symbol, carried the names and faces of all the people who had fallen to keep the SGC running for all those years before the Announcement. The second, subtly grander than the first, was a tribute to the Atlantis Expedition. There was a name and face for every member of the team, barring one. On one side, above the names, was the eight symbol address of Atlantis. On the other, an image of the city, an everlasting record of the Lantean city. On the top, a crystal on a delicate chain had been carefully placed.

A small group had gathered in front of the monuments for Remembrance Sunday. Few of the original people on the projects remained, fewer people had been admitted into the select group. Leading the service, and leaning heavily on her cane, Samantha Carter spoke a poem from memory:

'They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:  
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.  
At the going down of the sun and in the morning  
We will remember them...'

In the group, stubbornly standing despite the chair provided for her, Elizabeth listened, mentally reviewing all her memories of the people they were commemorating. A brilliant red poppy stood out against the dark dress she wore. At her side, ready to offer an assisting elbow if necessary, Jack O'Neil stood, a poppy pinned to his pocket, given pride of place above his numerous memories.

With the service complete, O'Neil carefully help Elizabeth into her seat. She gripped his hand gratefully, and settled back, closing her eyes. For a few minutes, the group remained in the old gate room, a companionable silence descending around them. A whisper from below his elbow caught Jack's attention.

"You are all here. You waited for me." A contented sigh followed.

O'Neil leant down to ask what Elizabeth had meant, and who the comment had been for. As he reached her eye level, he noticed her face was still, her features relaxed into an expression of peace. Gently he took her hand, his fingers automatically placing themselves on her wrist. Nothing. He lowered her hand onto her lap, and stepped to talk to the others. Elizabeth Weir had finally gone to rejoin her family.

Note: For those who missed the reference, the red poppy is a flower traditionally worn in England, and possibly elsewhere, on Rememberance Sunday to remember those people lost in war. The poem is a stanza from 'For the Fallen' by Laurence Binyon, and the title is based on that.


End file.
